


Boundary Issues

by Anonymous



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Twincest, is it monsterfucking if they're both monsters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 13:44:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18500200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A stopover at a literal demon barbers' leads to some boundary issues.don't @ me about the tails. you know they should have them.





	Boundary Issues

“I’ve figured out the problem with Hell,” Dante announced as they slid down a dusty cliff constructed of some brain-bleeding geometry.

Vergil plucked some fat, blood-filled mite from his coat and regarded it seriously before putting it in his mouth. “Just the one,” he said.

“Boundary issues,” Dante did a little twirl on his heel, coat snapping around him as he gestured broadly with the massive sword in his hand. “For instance, over here, we have normal fucking Hell.” He stabbed his demon blade’s tip at a series of jagged rocks festooned with red pustules. Nearby, an empusa was trying to eat the foot off a Nobody that wasn’t entirely dead. “Gross, ugly, but entirely within normal disgusting parameters.”

Vergil rolled his eyes as the creatures both ignored them entirely.

“And over here, we have boundary issues,” Dante swung around, narrowly missing his twin’s face with the sword as he pointed to a chunk of Red Grave that had been swallowed up some time ago. Parts of buildings and cars stuck out of the fleshy pavement at odd angles in some spots, and in others, it was almost, momentarily, passable as some nearly-normal human street.

A streetlamp guttered as Dante turned down a corner, pausing to pick up a discarded newspaper. Any human words on the paper had long since turned arcane symbols in dried ichor, but there was still an amusing photo of a dog printed there. “This isn’t Hell, this is just gentrification.”

“You don’t even know what that word means,” Vergil peered in a window of what had once been a shoe shop. Inside, a few human skeletons were still pinned to a wall like butterflies spiked with stiletto heels. “I could use some new boots though.”

“You can go shoe shopping later, princess. I’ll even buy you an ice cream if you’re good,” Dante jerked a thumb at what had once been a cheerful ice cream truck, the sides of it running red with fetid blood. “They only got one flavor tho.”

“I’d rather we stop at the barber’s. You look like a hobo with an opossum glued to his face,” Vergil nodded at the shop on the corner. It was brightly lit, the old fashioned striped barber sign oozing slightly onto the sidewalk. 

“Words hurt. I’ve been trying to grow a beard my entire life!” Dante pouted as he jogged after his twin, who’d set off without him.

“How sad to spend your whole life working towards a goal only to fail so miserably,” Vergil snorted, barely dodging the punch Dante threw at him.

Up ahead, there was the sound of clacking metal, punctuated by occasional meaty, moist thuds, and bursts of riotous chittering. Curious, they exchanged a glance before peering inside.

A few death scissors floated there, massive shears clicking as they snipped around the heads of an assortment of demons sitting in the chairs. In one corner, a marionette sat under a hair dryer, burning while it read a corrupted copy of GQ upside down.

One of the death scissors missed, lopping the head clean off the oranguerra it had been trimming, and the whole shop erupted into cackling as the head bounced off the floor and rolled out the door.

Dante glanced down at the still-bleeding head against his foot, and tapped the demon blade on his shoulder. “Health inspectors!” He said brightly.

The little shop erupted into chaos, the flaming marionette running in circles as one of the demons playing barber lunged at Dante with a shriek.

The scissors rang against the demon blade’s edge a moment before they broke, and Dante backstepped out onto the street, flicking them away before Ebony materialized in his hand. The single shot shattered the Scissor’s mask and it died with a thin screech.

Vergil moved past him into the shop, kicking a rack of magazines into another Scissor’s face to disorient it before running it through with the Yamato. He spun, slicing the third across the face, in time to watch Dante sweep his blade through the remainder of the customers in one massive arc.

Demon blood and bits exploded into crystalline fragments, and a smattering of orbs tinkled across the stained tiles with a cheerful chiming sound.

The marionette fell over, unconvincingly playing dead while it smouldered and Dante and Vergil shared a look. “It’s no fun when they do this,” he muttered and hooked it with his foot to lob it straight out the door. They watched it bounce a few times, wood splintering here and there, before it picked itself up and scrambled, still burning, down the street, where it was promptly eaten by an empusa.

“So close,” Dante laughed, then flopped into one of the barber chairs. “Wow. This is like the first time I’ve sat in a real chair in, like, months,” he squirmed a bit in the seat and hooked his leg over the arm. “I think I forgot how to sit right.”

“That’s because you’re stupid,” Vergil said blandly, pawing through the tools still on the counters. “Sit still, I’m going to shave that mangy marsupial off your ridiculous face.”

“One, we have the same face, asshat,” Dante said, picking up what might have once been a sports magazine. He squinted at what looked like skeletons playing polo and tossed it over his shoulder. “Two, I could be wrong, but I believe you, sir, are not a certified people-shaver.”

“Lucky for me you’re not people, then,” Vergil countered, turning on one of the taps.  The pipes burbled for a second, then belched out a plop of coagulated goop. A thin trickle of greyish water followed and Vergil shook his head. “Smells like Earth-water, must’ve been some left in the pipes.”

“That’s novel,” Dante replied without looking, spinning around in his chair. “Maybe we’ll find a fully intact pizzeria while we’re here. I would even go for olives right about now.” He almost fell out as Vergil stopped the chair abruptly with his foot. “Hey!”

“OK, sheepface,” Vergil wagged a shaving brush at him. “It’s shearing time.”

“ _Really_?” Dante scoffed as Vergil set it down and started looking for something else. “Seriously, Verg, you are not shaving off mister beard. It took me being in a coma for a month to grow this thHYRK!” Dante looked down at the half-a-Death Scissor-scissor suddenly sticking through his guts and into the back of the chair. “Oh come _on_ , that’s just rude.”

“Sit still and maybe I won’t cut your face off in the process,” Vergil hummed pleasantly, his coat folding away so he could roll up his sleeves. Midnight silk and silver embroidery glittered as it peeled back into feathers and scales and spiraling electric veins before snapping back with a crackle. For a moment, his massive wings flickered luminous and blue, into view as he stretched. A few sparks of lightning and a shiver of sulfurous blue flame flickered across his skin as he popped his shoulders, and smiled with a demon’s teeth, then faded from sight.

Dante flicked a nail against the shears and smirked. “Ok, bossy. Shave away,” he said with a wave of his hand, sitting as casually as a large man with a six-foot scissor blade through his midsection could.

The shaving soap smelled musky-sweet under the layer of sulfur and rank blood that permeated everything in Hell, and Dante’s eyes slid closed at the pleasurable rasp of the brush and lather against his face. Some demonic sub-level of his brain screeched like a monkey for how vulnerable he was allowing himself to be, but the blade through his midsection was just uncomfortable enough to make him curious, and Vergil was so close to him that his nerves sang, just a little bit, in anticipation of what would come next.

The scrape of the razor on his chin sent a frission of nervous energy shuddering down his spine. It couldn’t kill him any more than a _Death Scissor’s-scissor_ through the guts could, but the danger was more than a little delicious in his other half’s hands. “You gonna cut my throat, big brother?” Dante purred as the edge ran along his chin.

“If I did, you’d deserve it for letting me do this,” Vergil answered, pausing to turn the razor over in his hands. “Anyways, trying to kill you with barbershop tools would be tedious for both of us.”  Even as he said it though, he drew a thin line across Dante’s throat with it, blood seeping to the surface, pulsing with the beat of his heart. Very gently, Vergil leaned close and ran his tongue along the cut, prodding it before it could heal.

Dante hissed softly, one hand flying up to fist in the spiky mass of his brother’s hair. Vergil’s teeth were sharper than razors as he bit down and sucked, one hand braced on the back of the chair and the other sliding down Dante’s chest to trail through the sticky blood running from the wound in his belly. “Eventually, I am going to beat you properly, and then, I’m going to make you the most beautiful devil arm in the world,” he hummed as Dante squirmed against the blade through his midsection. “You’ll always be safe, in my hands. And together, we will change the world.”

“Aw, and here I was just gonna make you my prize butter knife,” Dante pushed Vergil’s hand lower, growling as the other’s fingers brushed the head of his cock. “Y’know… just getting… buttery an’…” he arched up into the touch, the shear-blade through him ringing like a wet finger on glass.  “Ah, fuck it.”

The trigger shuddered across his skin a heartbeat before he let it go, embers dancing under his skin and from the tips of his silvery hair. There was an implosion of sound, a silent void as he transformed and the chair and shear both shattered under the sudden shift in mass.

Vergil changed with him, the triggers as perfectly synched as their heartbeats. Dante’s claws, rainbow-obsidian and cooling lava, scraped down the gunmetal-silver plates on Vergil’s back while their wings beat furiously for a moment to regain a form of balance. There was a screech of stone and steel and a snap of velvet leather as Vergil slammed him hard into the wall, shattering the mirror behind them.

The shards of glass caught the glow from their wings, scattering the ruined barbershop with lurid rainbows.

Vergil’s claws dug into Dante’s wrists, pinning him to the plaster slowly grinding to dust behind him. Burning blue eyes regarded the other demon for a moment, watching the light vanish into the murky black rainbows of Dante’s armoured skin.

A low, thrumming growl shivered between them, and Dante hooked one leg around Vergil’s waist with that same metal and stone scrape. [ _Who said you could stop_?] He said through too many teeth, lapping the softer, crackling midnight-blue flesh between the older demon’s silvery jaw-plates. Demon tongues were long, cat-rough, and the shiver of sandpaper on glass broke Vergil’s appreciation of the red-burning creature pinned against him.

[ _You’ve never had any patience_ ,] Vergil answered almost fondly, whip-sharp tail flicking up to circle the other demon’s throat. He squeezed, just enough to make those red eyes blink for a second, then somehow Dante managed to show him even more teeth.  

Dante’s own curled around Vergil’s waist and pulled him close. Between them, his shaft, ridged and softly plated over lava-gold skin, peeled from its sheath and Dante ground it against Vergil’s armoured belly. It was already slick with plasm. Devils didn’t cry, not from lack of emotion, but because there was hardly any differentiation in them. Blood, sweat, tears, sex, all of it some variation on the pulsing ichor that ran through every demon’s body.

Vergil’s own tongue caught Dante’s, the kiss more a tangle of wet, rough flesh and teeth as he hoisted him up just a bit higher and thrust up and IN in one sharp motion, letting himself completely unfold inside his twin. Fucking Dante was like fucking the very pits of Hell itself, impossibly hot and threatening to dissolve him if he wasn’t careful.

In response, Dante’s tail tightened on Vergil’s waist and his wings spasmed, knocking over the few items around them that had remained upright from the first impact. Their hearts hammered in synchrony, half-formed words and growls only finding completion in the conversation between them.

The wall splintered behind them, plaster and concrete crumbling as Vergil pounded him into it, wings beating in counter-time to balance the movement. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement, but Dante did too in that same glance. He could feel the other’s excitement ratchet up, tail flicking against him and Vergil gently tightened his own around his twin’s throat.

Lesser demons, come to watch the Princes of Hell, and Dante freed one hand from Vergil’s grasp to flick a single, red-hot blade through the nearest, pinning the Hell Caina through the skull and straight to the pavement outside.

Vergil turned his head to regard them, slowing the grind of his hips. [ _This isn’t for you_ ,] he growled, the sound picked up in Dante’s chest until the others scattered. Vergil’s final thrust, his attention back fully on the other, was enough to finish the wall and the two of them fell back into the tangle of demonic roots and mortal masonry.

Dante came between them, burning hot and wet and it sizzled on the old tiles as it oozed between them, silent gasps choking as he pulled Vergil tight until there were no gaps between them.

For a long moment, they could pretend they were simply one creature, as they’d imagined they always should have been.

The moment passed, and in unison, they released each other, human forms slipping back over their demon skins. Dante leaned back on his elbows, wings stretching one last time before they slipped over his body like rivulets of lava, curling into blood-red leather.

Vergil stood and regarded him, before offering a hand. “Buttery?” He asked as he hauled Dante to his feet. “Really?”

“At least I’m practical,” Dante grinned, but it didn’t reach the ruby gleam behind his eyes. He lingered too long next to Vergil, and Vergil in turn, didn’t push him away,  savoring the last few moments before they felt separate again. “Hey. _Hey_. I think we’re done here. I want to go home.”

“Your home,” Vergil gently pulled away, nudging the ruined GQ on the floor with his toe. “I…”

Dante immediately closed the space between them, bumping his shoulder. “Ours.”

“…what about my new boots?” Vergil didn’t pull away again.

“I’ll get you some real ice cream instead,” Dante whispered into his hair as both their hands closed on Yamato as one.


End file.
